


Staying Up - Payback is a bitch

by lokidiabolus



Series: Staying Up [13]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: 2 parts, Angst, M/M, Request Fill, Ugh, i hate this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidiabolus/pseuds/lokidiabolus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ohh, how jealous,” she sneered, but her hand stayed, even though the movement stilled. “But I don’t see you having him signed now, do you?”<br/>Something snapped in Newt like a broken match, igniting his rage with dangerous intensity. She focused back at Thomas, who was all pale in the face, and gave him the most lascivious smile Newt had ever seen in his life.<br/>“Right, darling? You don’t belong to anyone.”<br/>“In the matter of fact,” Newt took a deep breath, taking her attention back again. “He does.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iheartsiriusblack18](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=iheartsiriusblack18).



Newt was blessed with sudden clarity, even though the speakers thrummed so loud he could barely hear a word of what Minho said, even though the lights were jumping all over the place like little devils, and against all odds of him being slightly drunk and probably a little dazed as well. No, it suddenly clicked all together, and it surged up in him like an atomic bomb, expanding in his chest, flooding his limbs and mainly got stuck in his head, cutting into his brain.

“Newt, you hear me?!” Minho’s voice again and he agreed immediately, his eyes fixed in front of him, at two figures at the bar. “You _have_ to drag him away, or stall him, whatever, you understand?! You _have to_ , until I get there! You got it?!”

“I got it,” he responded icily, noting how Teresa next to him eyed him questioningly with a glass of something pink in her hand. He didn’t wait for anything, just shot forward as if some invisible force pushed him, or maybe pulled him, slinking along the dancing bodies or stalling deadweights.

This whole mess started when they agreed to Teresa’s offer and went with her and Alby to the club, to celebrate the engagement (a little late, he admitted, but Teresa insisted and Thomas seemed to be happy to go, so he relented and went as well). The whole evening went great until _she_ appeared. At first Newt hadn’t paid her much attention – a random gal talking to Thomas at the bar. He learned to _trust_ so well he didn’t even _think_ of anything inappropriate that could happen, even that Alby pointed the girl out with a teasing voice, saying she is really pretty and apparently very interested.

So what, there were many pretty girls interested in _his_ man. But he was _his_ , not theirs; there was no worry that bothered him.

But the talk got long, and for the second glance Newt realized something was wrong. Thomas was very, _very stiff_ , even that he stood with his back to their table so he couldn’t see his expression. For another moment of actually realizing this girl wasn’t _only_ talking, dawned on him a second later when he noticed her hand sneaking its way up Thomas’ neck and then the nape, dragging her long black nails through his hair.

And he _let_ her?

No matter how pretty she was (a blond, petite beauty, her long black eyelashes perfectly wreathed her deep blue eyes, a seductively shaped red lips were curled in a suggestive smirk. Wavy long hair cascaded over her shoulders and her back like a majestic trophy, decorated with flashy adornments, and actually drew all the attention to her deep-cut décolleté around which it fell flawlessly. She had a lusciously shaped figure, no wonder men were drooling after her in the close vicinity like dogs with Pavlov’s reflex), Thomas shouldn’t be so passive, right? Or _submissive_ , that seemed like the right word.

He heard a clicking sound next to him when Teresa suddenly snapped a picture of the couple, her brows furrowed, and fiddled with her phone for a while. 1 minute later Newt’s phone rang with Minho’s name on it, and Newt could tell the shit was going to hit the fan.

Before he could even say hello, Minho barked out like a mad dog:

“Get her the fuck away from Tom, now!”

“What?” Newt blinked few times, his anxiety rising to dangerous levels. Minho sounded breathless as if he was running and then a loud bang sounded through the speaker.

“It’s his fucking ex, Newt’, for fuck’s sake, please, get him away,” Minho sounded painfully desperate and Newt felt his heart stop.

His ex?

The ex?

The girl who almost made him to kill himself? Here? With him? Now? _Touching him_?

A strange serenity came over him, his free hand balled into a fist so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I’m going for Brenda, just hold on,” he heard Minho saying and an engine roared to life on his side.

And so it came down to this. To Newt fighting his way through the crowd with an immense anger gripping his insides, an urge to strangle the woman like a chicken for doing what she did, and having _the nerve_ to actually attempt to do it _now_ again, touching Thomas so intimately. He hadn’t heard what she was saying, purring into the writer’s ear with a conscious smile, but he definitely saw how Thomas held his shoulders down almost painfully, his head lowered towards her, and it burned inside of Newt so intensely he wanted to kick him as well, to wake him up.

His hand reached immediately when he was at the right range, touching Thomas back reassuringly, and the tenseness seeped into him as well.

“Is something the matter?” he stopped right next to the writer, finally making the girl look at him as well, seizing him carefully, until her lips widened in another playful smile.

Thomas noticed him as if in daze and it snapped him out of it like a bucket of cold water thrown at him, his eyes focusing again and the face cringing in the strangest expression ever.

“Everything is perfectly fine, sweetie,” she purred, but her bloody hand _stayed_ at Thomas shoulder, her fingers dancing over the fabric of the shirt possessively. “You can hop back, adults are talking.”

“Oh?” he looked her dead in the eye, such simple statement made him almost see red. “Don’t get what you are still doing here then.”

She did a double take and her eyes bored into him again, now more intense, even that her face stayed all smiley. Newt felt how Thomas’ body swayed a little, fighting back the urge to run or maybe curl to the ball.

“Do I know you?” she asked sweetly, but the undertone was wrong, threatening even.

“Thank god, no,” he waved his hand, not able to resist the temptation to sound as grossed out as possible. It made her eyes narrow.

“Newt,” Thomas croaked, a little desperately, but the blond ignored him for now.

“And I seriously don’t have even a remote need to _get to know you_ , but I’d appreciate if you _keep your hands_ to yourself, and _off_ Thomas, how about that?”

“Ohh, how jealous,” she sneered, but her hand stayed, even though the movement stilled. “But I don’t see you having him signed now, do you?”

Something snapped in Newt like a broken match, igniting his rage with dangerous intensity. She focused back at Thomas, who was all pale in the face, and gave him the most lascivious smile Newt had ever seen in his life.

“Right, darling? You don’t belong to anyone.”

“In the matter of fact,” Newt took a deep breath, taking her attention back again. “He does.”

He was glad he stood at the left side of the writer, because he could easily take his hand that way, pulling it up, intertwining their fingers automatically (Thomas grip was tight, almost painfully, and refused to let go).She rolled her eyes at first, almost mockingly, until she noticed the both rings and her body went rigid. She took two steps back, taking them both in with an unbelieving stare, and then started to laugh like a possessed.

“How precious!” she squealed, her voice annoyingly high and cutting. “How endearing! So you found yourself a victim who keeps up with your whims now, Thomas? That’s just priceless, I’m amazed!”

She giggled, throwing the free strands of her hair back, fully revealing how naughty her dress was, more revealing than hiding. It was like an open invitation to stare and enjoy it.

“You must be truly desperate, _boy_ ,” she jeered at Newt, her full lips in an ugly smirk. “Binding your pitiful life with such a wreck. He is good in bed, but good grief, don’t throw your whole life away and make even yourself _miserable_ along with him.”

In an utter shock Newt couldn’t even sort his thoughts for a proper response, but she wasn’t done yet, grinning at them like an embodiment of evil.

“Do tell, cutie-pie,” she started at the editor with fake sweetness. “Does he check up on you every hour? He does, doesn’t he? And did he force himself on you a bit too early for comfort? I’m pretty sure you did, didn’t you, Thomas.”

The grip on Newt’s hand got almost unbearable in its strength and Newt whimpered, looking at Thomas pleadingly, but the writer was staring at the girl as if she was the only thing in the room, and a scary one on top of that.

“All about sex, isn’t it. Jealous little baby, I’m surprised he even let you come here and not hit anyone who would look at you,” she continued. “Or god forsake _touch you_. Possessive to the max.”

Newt wanted to tell her to shut up, he really did, but before he could even open his mouth and let the words out, a firm grip suddenly seized his shoulder and Minho appeared right next to him, a little out of breath as if he ran all the way there.

“Bet you think you are a beacon of purity, huh,” Minho stared hard at the girl, apparently very well aware what was going on. “Blaming all the shit on him again, aren’t you?”

“Oh Min,” she snapped her attention to him in a second, obviously very well acquainted with him. “You were the only one missing at the party, for sure! Mighty guardian, hmm? Still playing a naughty nanny?”

“Man, she reached this point already?” the Asian groaned, giving Newt a reassuring look by the corner of his eye. “All gold and diamonds her mouth spouted, eh?”

“Well, you know the qualities of my mouth the best, don’t you, dear,” she shot back immediately and Minho stopped in his tracks, frowning at her spitefully. “I never heard you complaining. It actually sounded more like _encouraging,_ to be honest.”

“Shut up,” a growl sliced the tension suddenly and Newt froze at the tone. He wasn’t alone, even the girl remained quiet and her smile faded a little, watching Thomas who said that, in surprise. “Shut up already, stop talking!”

She looked taken back a little, but then her eyes narrowed again.

“Oh, so now you play it tough?” she hissed. “Manning up, huh? No one is gonna believe you, you know. You know very well you’re messed up, and you’ll stay that way. He’s gonna leave you soon too, because you’ll just get on his nerves like you do to everyone.”

She glanced back at Newt, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“You should get away when you can. Dealing with his whining gets tiresome, no matter how good the sex is.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Brenda’s voice added to the mix and Newt cringed a little. The girl visibly wavered, her expression morphing into something equal to nervousness when the artist appeared next to Thomas, her eyes dark and stormy. She looked like she was ready to kill. “She has this nasty habit to get into your head, you know. Pulling out facts and twisting them.”

“I only told him the truth,” the girl shrugged, but her posture was stiffer than before, as if Brenda was scaring the shit out of her. Newt wouldn’t even be surprised. “Sharing my experience. He looks too cute to be taken down by this dysfunctional sex machine.”

She didn’t hide the sneer when she looked back at Thomas, but she didn’t keep it long when a loud smack landed. The girl gasped, holding her cheek with an accusation in her eyes, but Brenda, who just hit her without hesitation, only eyed her with disgust.

“Just get out of here, you piece of trash,” she told her angrily. “And don’t ever come close to either of those two again, if you want to keep your pretty face intact.”

“Fuck you, you crazy ass bitch,” the blondie growled, but one threatening step towards her made her change her mind and she turned around and disappeared in the crowd.

“Got, that heinous bitch always make me want to break her neck,” Minho fumed, giving Brenda a high-five. He turned towards the couple and attempted a smile: “All good?”

“Fucking amazing,” Thomas growled and suddenly Newt felt the grip on his hand easing up until the writer let go completely. “How about you _mind your own business_ next time?!”

“How about you actually think with your head for once, and not your dick?” Minho countered angrily. “You looked like you were fucking ready to jump her!”

“Shut up!” the writer barked out. “I don’t need you to fight my battles anymore, Minho, for god’s sake!”

“You apparently still do,” the Asian responded coldly. “How much shit do you think Newt can take before he gets fed up, huh?”

“Minho, that’s enough,” the blond said tiredly. “Just leave it. She is gone. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened because _you_ stopped it,” Minho retorted, his tone bitter. “I’m sorry to break the news to you, bun, but your fucking boyfriend has some _issues_ he still apparently hadn’t worked out.”

“That’s enough,” Thomas growled. “Fuck you.”

With that he simply turned around and left them standing at the bar alone. Minho started shouting profanities after him; Brenda ordered a drink and Newt felt like throwing up. His legs carried him without his consent after the writer, dragging through the crowd out of the club, hoping, seriously hoping Thomas didn’t do anything idiotic (it could include all sort of stuff – searching for the girl, taking a taxi and going to drink somewhere, walking somewhere alone, abandoning Newt so easily).

What even happened? Newt’s alcohol hazed brain had a difficulty to understand everything that had been said, all the implications and accusations, a painful grip Thomas had on him the whole time. Newt was so stunned by her sudden talk he just couldn’t react, wasn’t even able to shut her up, just staring and gasping for breath and hurting inside after each word.

And now, when he finally managed to get out of the club and breathe the fresh air, the hopelessness and a strange burning anger shot through him at the same time, with Thomas nowhere to be seen. He cursed, turned around and then back. He left his phone inside, along with his coat. The only thing he had on him was his cigarettes, so he took one and lighted it, feeling he needed to calm down somehow.

“Are you already fed up with me?”

He almost choked on the smoke when the voice came, coughing and wheezing for several seconds before he realized Thomas was sitting at the stairs, watching him from there with an unreadable expression.

“Do you want to bloody kill me?” he croaked, throwing the cigarette away in disgust.

“Are you?” Thomas ignored it and pushed again. The blond send him a death glare, something that Thomas should have been familiar with already during their time together. It meant a high level of being pissed off, almost a red alarm that would say “run and hide”.

“Look,” he started gruffly. “It’s-,”

“I’d understand if you are,” Thomas interrupted him simply. “Everyone is after time.”

“Thomas-,”

“I just _hate_ how she can get under my skin every time,” the writer hissed, more to himself than to Newt. “She is always _there_ , pushing the right buttons, and I just can’t-,”

“Are you bloody serious?” the blond stopped him and walked closer, towering above him threateningly. “Are you bloody serious, Thomas? Are you telling me you’d go and sleep with her, because you _can’t control yourself_?”

“No, I-,”

“Think carefully of what you are going to say, man. _Carefully_ ,” Newt growled, his voice lower. “Because if you say yes, I swear to god I’m going to hurt you.”

“Newt-,”

“Do you want to bloody fuck her or not?!”

“No!” Thomas voice came back with a loud, menacing echo, and he stood up, now having a height advantage against the blond. His fists were clenched, eyes a little wild.

“So what was all the touching about? She hurt you and you let her?” Newt didn’t back up an inch, looking up to his fiancé stubbornly. Thomas face was angry, really angry and in normal case Newt would be worried, terrified maybe, since the anger was aimed _at him_. But nothing along those lines came to him. He was staring back, ready to take him down if he needed to.

“This is not your business, Newt,” the writer bit out. “Not _anyone’s_ business.”

“Thomas, you probably forgot about this,” Newt raised his hand, showing the ring. “ _You_ belong to _me_.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” Thomas barked and Newt took a step back. A sudden dullness crashed into him, waste and cold.

“I see,” he mumbled only. His body felt heavy and tired, his mind buzzed. “I guess we are not ready then.”

Thomas’ face went through several expressions after that and then settled on a pure shock, staring at Newt slowly reaching for his ring, pulling it down slowly.

“Or you are not,” the blond added in a whisper and held the ring up, in front of the man. “Take it.”

“No, Newt, please-,”

“Take it!”

A sharp order in his voice made Thomas to take the ring after all, gripping it in his palm tightly. His face was absolutely desperate now, a painful expression that should had made Newt’s heart hurt.

But nothing came. Only the waste dullness where the love should had been.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We will deal,” he heard her saying. “We will make it right. Don’t give up. Never give up.”  
> “What did I do?” he hiccupped, burying his face into Minho’s shirt, wetting it with tears. “Did I dump him? I gave him the ring back, why did I do that?”  
> “It’ll teach him a lesson,” Brenda replied calmly, rubbing his back reassuringly. “It’ll show him there are limits to his selfishness. He loves you. He’ll come back.”  
> “He never left,” Minho opposed softly. “Don’t worry, bun, don’t you worry.”

Newt lost his phone. Probably. Or maybe he just left it somewhere. He didn’t know. The main thing was accomplished by it though. Thomas couldn’t call him. Or text him. God knows he tried. Even Newt tried. But then stopped himself, throwing the device away, wishing for not remembering the number so vividly to hold himself back even without the phone on him.

He felt like a body without soul. He didn’t even properly remembered how exactly he ended up at Minho’s place, suddenly he sat on the couch, staring dazedly at the table in front of it with magazines about cars, and Minho was sitting next to him, holding him around his shoulders, making cooing noises.

Then Newt realized it was probably because he was crying. His whole body shook violently ad he cried and cried, and Minho petted his hair and told him it’s going to be alright, everything was fine, all fine, all good, just a little hiccup.

_All fine, all good._

Nothing was fine. The dullness was slowly creeping away and an unfathomable pain took its place, making him feel like his heart was torn out and now a gaping wound stayed in the middle of his chest. He was barely aware of his own sobs and pleas, questions like how could it happen? What did I do wrong?

Minho only held him and probably even replied with something happy and nice to cheer him up, but it didn’t reach him.

Another set of arms held him from behind and he saw Brenda’s bracelets and rings on the hands that hugged him, and her voice soothingly washing over him.

“We will deal,” he heard her saying. “We will make it right. Don’t give up. Never give up.”

“What did I do?” he hiccupped, burying his face into Minho’s shirt, wetting it with tears. “Did I dump him? I gave him the ring back, why did I do that?”

“It’ll teach him a lesson,” Brenda replied calmly, rubbing his back reassuringly. “It’ll show him there are limits to his selfishness. He loves you. He’ll come back.”

“He never left,” Minho opposed softly. “Don’t worry, bun, don’t you worry.”

Newt didn’t know how long they held him and how long he wept like a child in their embrace, but when the reality crashed back into him, he woke up on the couch, cocooned in a blanket and both of them were curled around him like a pile of puppies, holding him safe and warm.

***

Helping Brenda was good. It made him think about how weird the girl was and not how bad he felt, sorting all her dirty brushes and messy pictures, sketches and half-finished sculptures, jewellery and strangely shaped objects he was afraid to ask what they were for or what they represented.

Brenda kept him in line. She touched his back when necessary to lead his thoughts back to the point, she left him alone when he was needed it, she talked to him about her childhood to make him feel better. He felt grateful and embarrassed at the same time, but she was patient and caring, and he couldn’t stop thinking if this was how she treated Thomas when he was a mess.

“I know it’s hard to grasp it, but she is bewitching,” Brenda suddenly said in the middle of painting. All her stuff was lying around the apartment and Newt wondered how Minho didn’t even mind it smelled there like in a studio. He went for a run, Newt was aware, but he seemed perfectly fine with the fact Brenda made such a mess in the morning.

“I don’t think she is evil per se,” the girl continued, the brush stroking the canvas languidly. “She just doesn’t mind when people get hurt as far as she has fun. Minho can tell you a lot about that.”

It suddenly made sense to Newt. She was talking about Thomas’ ex, and the thought of Minho being involved with her made him uneasy.

“They…?”

“Had sex,” she finished his thought. “Yeah. On his defence, she told him they broke up with Thomas. They still had those ups and downs, once together, once not. She always found a way how to get him back, even that it was obvious she fucked the whole neighbourhood in meantime. Thomas was such an idiot. He forgave her everything, even that he _knew_. He started to be jealous and insecure at every gesture, every person near her, and it only escalated. She broke up with him and then made up, telling him she was just lonely and unappreciated, and he should try harder. And he did. And it was slowly making him lose his mind.”

Newt glanced back at the flower shaped necklace he was holding thoughtfully. His throat felt tight at the thought of the writer, and it got even worse after hearing this. Thomas was always very unsure in their relationship, even after two years, Newt could tell. There was still a bit too much fussing, sometimes an unnecessary texting, and a lot of assuring. But Newt trusted him and Thomas trusted him back, and suddenly this woman appeared again and he couldn’t tell anymore.

“I think you can imagine what kind of mess it did,” Brenda concluded. “Between Minho and Thomas. I thought they’ll never talk to each other anymore. Thomas just couldn’t deal.”

“So how did they make up?” he asked cautiously and Brenda smiled at him.

“I have no idea. Wasn’t there. They refused to talk about it. I’m just glad they did.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, putting the necklace to the box, sorting it slowly.

“I know Thomas can be difficult,” she turned back to the canvas. “But you changed him a lot. You made him a better person. I hope you considered making me your best man at the wedding.”

A sudden change in the topic made him blink and then groan.

“Brenda, you are a girl.”

“I can wear a suit if it helps,” she smirked. “And I thought about making the wedding in 1920’s style. Smartsuits and all, I think it’s sexy.”

He took a deep breath. The wedding. Something that seemed out of reach, impossible to even think of.

She noticed his sudden quietness and left the canvas alone, sitting next to him and bumping into his shoulder.

“Minho is taking care of him,” she informed him lightly. “So he won’t do anything stupid. Are you ready now?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Am I?”

“I think you are,” she nodded and stood up, walking towards the door, opening it slowly. “Man up. You got this.”

Thomas stood there alone.

***

Newt lost his sanity.

He didn’t remember where or when exactly, he just knew he didn’t have it anymore. He was a wreck. A mash of emotions jumbled together into one average human body, a one big nerve ending ready to blow up.

He sat on the couch, completely paralyzed, and Thomas stood in front of him, his face sad and so, so tired. His eyes were red and puffy and his body held only barely, trying to mask it with fake leisure, hands in pockets, legs wide apart.

Brenda disappeared. The flat was quiet and smelled like paint.

“Tenda was meowing the whole night,” Thomas broke the silence suddenly. “Think she was crying.”

Newt looked down on his joined hands, noticing how he trembled slightly, trying to get still.

“She kept on scratching at your spot on the couch,” the writer continued, his voice rough and heavy, as if he was shouting the whole night.

The shivering got worse.

“I can’t,” Thomas said a little more desperately. “Newt, I can’t do this.”

“Then don’t,” the blond said without looking up, not trusting himself for it.

“Please come back,” another plea, a broken one that made Newt’s lower lip tremble. “Please don’t leave me.”

A sudden touch on his knees made him flinch and the contact disappeared, but Thomas stayed in front of him, kneeling and looking so lost and miserable it almost made Newt cry all over again.

“Please don’t do this to me,” the writer pleaded. “I know I messed up, I always mess up, and I am a mess by myself, a wreck and I can’t deal with stuff properly, but please… you give me all the strength I need, I can’t even function without you anymore, it’s too much…” His voice broke down in an involuntary sob and Newt’s breath hitched.

“Do you still love her?”

The question was out before Newt could stop himself, and Thomas shook his head violently, repeating _nonononono_ all over again.

“Do you still want her?” Newt continued, afraid of the answer so much he had to bite his tongue to keep his mind a little out of the gutter.

Thomas stayed quiet. His eyes were wide and wet and he stared back at the blond with so much pain in them it hurt Newt almost physically. Then he closed them, forcing two trickles of tears to drop from the corners, and moved forward, pushing against Newt insistently, burrowing his face in his shirt, inhaling deeply.

“I thought I did,” he mumbled into Newt’s stomach. “I thought she still had the power. I was confused and angry and she was like… like the wrong voice in the back in your head, telling you what to do. The one you can’t get rid of, yeah?”

“Did you get rid of it?” the blond asked, but forced his hands to stay away. Thomas gripped his legs, slowly sliding his hands over Newt’s thighs, up to his back, hugging him tightly.

“It wasn’t there anymore,” he replied quietly. “I freaked out for nothing. It felt wrong. I knew it. My body remembered, but my mind was already closed.”

“Do you still love me?” Newt breathed out hesitantly, his hands twitching at his sides, and the hold got suddenly tight and Thomas rose, seizing him in an intense embrace, almost crushing him.

“Oh god, yes, please, yes, I love you, I never stopped, please, let me make it up to you, please, don’t leave me, please,” the litany of pleas was flooding from his mouth, whispering it into Newt’s hair, against his neck, into his lips, kissing him deeply and taste like salt from the tears, and then Newt realized they weren’t just his, and it was the last thing he needed.

***

“Do you still want to marry me?”

Newt propped his chin on Thomas’ chest, lying sprawled on top of him, wrapped in a blanked and the man’s embrace. He only nodded, not trusting his voice just yet, and Thomas ran his fingers through Newt’s hair slowly.

“You sure?”

“Are you?” Newt replied with a question, his eyes half lidded and curious.

“Yes,” the writer answered strongly, the voice rumbling in his chest like a thunder. “ _Yes_.”

***

Minho texted them later he ate all the curry from the fridge and fed the cat.

“You are welcome, jerkfaces. I hope you didn’t have sex on my couch.”

Newt threw Thomas’ phone somewhere behind Brenda’s mess and fell asleep on top of his lover, completely content. The ring on his finger never felt more right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!
> 
> God, thank you for letting me go through this sane. So difficult QQ

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad, sorry :(
> 
> This is a request fill for an anon from Tumblr who submitted this prompt:
> 
> "(using submit cuz it’s a lot of text) So I was wondering if you could write a chapter(s) where Tommy and Newt meet Tommy’s evil ex who made his life miserable? What kind of woman was she? Did she wear a mask around Thomas (and everyone knew how bad she really was but Tommy was blind to it)? Or was she one of those sweet kinds “you didn’t pay enough attention to me, [Jake] was just comforting me, you can’t blame me for that” who somehow blamed the victim and get away with it? Did Tommy think what she did - or wanted from him - was how normal relationships worked? Did she surrounded herself with men and told Tommy “they’re just some friends”? (and fck them behind his back, would explain jealousy) Would love to know how Tommy got so possessive/easily jealous/insecure in a relationship. Would he feel obliged if she asked him for something (testing him if she still could get to him, even if he’s with Newt)? I don’t know how it ended between them but I don’t think Tommy could just shrug it off and say FU to her (stuff like that, it takes a seed in our brains) And how would Newt react to all that?"
> 
> This is only the first part. I'm sorry for breaking it up like this, I just can't deal.


End file.
